So Sleep The Bones
by JBHart
Summary: A Halloween Tale. A voice from the past haunts the young Barkley brothers.
1. Chapter 1

Insomnia kept at him on the third night. It seemed Jarrod's room resembled a crypt in which his shuffling feet now paced. More and more, the scent of dank earth filled his nostrils, even though Silas had paid special attention to his room in making sure everything was aired and thoroughly cleaned. And now, tonight, he sensed death-a rat had perhaps gotten trapped in the walls and had died-or perhaps something bigger...a snake. That was the thing that kept at him-and it would only get worse. Today, he would dig out the walls to find the carcass and dispose of it just to get some sleep.

The break at home was meant as a respite from the pressure of his classes and the crush of looming finals. But this stay with his family only darkened his mood. Even Nick seemed to feel it, though they had not said a word to each other on the matter. Jarrod could see it in his face, the darkness, the haunted, sleepless look. When their eyes met, Jarrod was certain Nick saw the same in him.

Jarrod paused at the window. A light caught his attention, one that hadn't been there before. He pushed the curtains aside and leaned on the windowsill. Yes, a light was on in the stable and it moved as if someone carried a lantern. The clock had already struck three. No man should be down there at this hour.

He quickly dressed and shoved his feet into shoes and stealthily descended the stairs. A burst of cold air hit him as he stepped onto the porch. A figure in dark clothes hung the lantern on the stable wall and led a horse outside.

"Nick..." Jarrod said as he rushed to his brother. "Nick!" The wind whipped at his open shirt, leaves skittered along the ground. "What are you doing? Where are you going this time of night?"

Nick only looked at him and muttered. "You know." He tied off his horse and stalked back into the stable.

Jarrod followed. "No, I don't know!"

Grabbing a coiled rope from the hook, Nick slung it on his shoulder. "You really have forgotten." His eyes, though tired held a dangerous light in them. "It might be easier for you to leave it behind. You've been at Berkeley, off studying law, keeping your head filled with the workings of man. I'm still here. This land is my life. It tells me things most men don't hear. Maybe that's why he keeps at me night and day."

"Who?" Jarrod asked. "Father?"

Nick shook his head. "No." He stepped around his brother. "Best you come with me. He wants us both."

"Who does?" Jarrod demanded, but Nick didn't answer. "Who wants us both, Nick?"

Nick glanced over his shoulder. "The Bones, Jarrod. Just listen."

But Jarrod only heard the whisper of the trees, the creak in the loft, the light stamping of a hoof.

Mounting Coco, Nick said, "Are you coming with me? or aren't you?"

"What?" Jarrod turned and there was Jingo, saddled and ready, just waiting in the stall.

"I took the liberty of tacking him up for you. I figured you'd want to come along." Nick shoved on his hat, firmly against the wind. "A man will do anything, won't he? For a bit of shut-eye?"

"How long have you been out here?" Jarrod asked as he took Jingo's reigns.

"I've been down here all night. I never slept." Nick added with a haunting laugh. "Know the feeling?"

Jarrod buttoned down his shirt, the breeze was getting too cold now, and he mounted his horse. "Let's go." he said. Though he did not know where his brother would lead him on this chilling night, but somewhere deep down Jarrod felt the shadow of truth lying dormant within him.


	2. Chapter 2

Riding out on this eerie moonlit night, sent chills down Jarrod's spine. The trees and the tall dry grasses seemed to whisper strange secrets from another world. He tried to listen, but could not construct meaning from any of it on this night.

He shivered and his teeth began to rattle. He felt a light touch on his arm. Nick's coat. His brother held it out to him.

"I've got thermals on. Figured it'd be cold. Take it."

Jarrod didn't refuse. He gratefully slipped his arms into the sleeves and the coat wrapped snuggly around him.

"Do you know where we're going?" Nick asked, but it didn't seem like a question, it was more of a prodding.

"I can't read the land like you anymore." The regret seeped into Jarrod's words. "I've...been away too long."

"You'll know soon enough. We're almost there." Nick sighed. "I regret having to bring this all back to you Jarrod. If I could save you from it, I would. But...once you do remember, well, you'll understand why my gratitude to you, brother, is beyond measure. I'd kill for you." Nick was serious. Not even cracking a half smile.

Jarrod could only stare at him. "What's gotten into you tonight, Nick?"

"It's up ahead." Nick spurred his horse to a trot.

They rode into a small clearing amongst the trees and Jarrod sensed the coldness overwhelming him. He still shivered. He longed to have his gun at his side. "Nick. Please, don't go farther. It's dangerous." Nick only looked at him briefly over his shoulder and then continued into the clearing. _"Nick!"_

Jarrod followed, scanning the field for...what? He studied the grasses that bobbed and whispered in the wind. Nick came to a stop and dismounted. He moved forward and knelt and seemed to be pulling at something on the ground.

It was an old well from a long forgotten homestead. Someone had boarded it up. Nick was trying to pull up a plank. Jarrod's heart raced. "Nick stop!" he shouted. "Get away from there!" Jarrod dismounted and ran to Nick and began pulling him away from the well.

They tumbled backward and landed together in a heap.

"It's what he wants!" Nick shouted.

"You'll fall in!" Jarrod shouted back. "You'll fall in and then you'll-"

Jarrod could still see it even after all these years. His four-year-old brother teetered on the edge of the well. _"Nicky!" Jarrod cried and ran to him._

"You nearly fell in," Jarrod said as he got to his feet. "You were standing there where the wall used to be."

"You grabbed me," Nick said. "Like you did just now. You tackled me to the ground. I couldn't breathe."

Jarrod stared at the covered pit. "I haven't taken a real breath since that day..." He turned back, and looked down the path on which they just rode. The house, the stables, none of that could be seen at this distance, with so many twists and turns through the woods. "How did you get out here? You didn't even have a horse. You were too young. How did you wander off this far from home?"

"Jarrod," Nick said quietly. "I wasn't alone." He shook his head and gazed at the well. "He brought me here. If only I could forget his face. Been haunting my nightmares since that day."

Jarrod's gaze rested on Nick's bowed profile. The wind whipped his brother's hair.

_The thin man rose from the tall grass like a serpent. "Come here boy," he said, his whiskered face broke into a sickly sweet smile. "Come here so this little one will quiet down." His arms clutched a crying Nicky in a tight embrace as he slinked toward the well._

_Father had instructed Jarrod well. "Never shoot a man...unless all options are lost."_

_"Let my brother go." Jarrod laid the shaking pistol across his arm and placed his finger on the trigger. _

"No." Jarrod said. "No!" His stomach roiled. Jarrod spun around, his hand was at his mouth as he stumbled away for two clumsy steps. Nick caught him, held him as he composed himself. "We...I left him there to die. In the well. Oh God Nick! He's still down there! Surely he's dead!"

_"Help me! Get me out!"_

Both young men looked back. From this point, they could not see the ruined well. All was grass and quiet breeze.

"He's dead, Jarrod. That he is, but his bones are down there. We have to finish this," Nick said. "Or he won't let either of us go. We need to raise him out of that well."

Jarrod straightened. "Let his bones rot! This is where he belongs! In an unmarked grave. That's what he did with those other children, Nick! If I hadn't killed him, you would be one of the dead, and so would I! You know what he did to those little children. You've heard the stories. They're not some fairy tale fantasy. They're real! Let him suffer in hell!"

Nick grabbed his brother's coat to yank him closer, and held onto him for dear life. "If we get his bones to hallowed ground, he'll suffer in silence. He's still hurting us because he can! You haven't slept in days. Don't tell me you haven't heard him! We're not finished, not until he's buried good and proper."

His eyes told it all. Nick was panicked. He was suffering the most because he was still here, living on this land. The bones spoke to him the most. Jarrod had only felt it for a short time and already his nerves were frayed. He gave a curt nod. "Alright. But, let me go down there. I need to make sure he's dead."

"You have to bring him up, or it'll _never _end!" Nick growled. He let Jarrod go. He pushed a hand through his hair and muttered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jarrod." He turned to get the rope from the saddle.

Jarrod swore he heard laughter. He looked at the well and thought he saw the planks move.


	3. Chapter 3

The rope was tied to Coco's saddle, and Nick uncoiled it. "You'll need the lantern," Nick said indicating the one on the ground next to him. "And...the burlap bag."

The bag lay expectantly on the ground by the lantern. Soon, it would bear those evil bones into the world again, back into the light. Maybe that was what they wanted, to be born again. He grasped the limp bag in a tight fist. A question formed in his mind. Was this what they should do? He turned. "Nick..."

But his brother didn't hear. He had gone over with Coco to the well. He tossed aside the first of the boards that covered it. One by one, he removed the wooden barrier between the world of the living and the dead.

Jarrod joined him, but could not bring himself to help with the boards. He only watched and noticed that the smell that had steadily strengthened since his arrival home was of the rotting decay of flesh. It wasn't in his room at all. This well was the source.

When Nick pried the last of the boards, a sigh of tepid, stagnant air issued from the well. Most of the stench was borne off by the winds that whipped around them, but still, Nick jumped as if electrified and stumbled away.

Coughing, Nick threw an arm over Coco's shoulders to steady himself. Coco lurched, and Nick had to take control of the frightened animal. He grabbed the reins. "Shh, easy Coco. Nothing here. Just the wind." He cast a weary gaze to the sky and the gathering black clouds that hid the moon. Lightning flashed within their depths showing how sinister the weather had become. He looked at Jarrod. "We should hurry. I'll go down-"

"No," Jarrod said, not able to tear his eyes from the pit. "He's still down there. He lost you once. I certainly won't give him another chance at you."

"Come on," Nick countered. "I'm a grown man now, he couldn't possibly-"

"He's bones, Nick!" Jarrod snapped. "Just dry filthy bones. I shot him all those years ago. I ought to be the one to bring him up. You just make sure you secure that rope.

* * *

Jarrod took a long drink from his canteen and still his throat was parched. His tongue felt dry in his mouth. Fear did this. He hated even realizing it was fear driving everything he did now. It was fear for his brother. Nick had nearly been killed all those years ago, either by falling into the well, or by the hands of that child murderer. He sensed the bones wanted Nick down there so they could finish him properly. That's why they had spoken to him and not to Jarrod.

He walked to the edge of the pit. The rope lay at his feet. He sat on the cool, damp ground and slipped a foot into the knotted loop at the bottom of the rope. Nick handed him the lantern and slung the burlap bag over his shoulder, leaving his hand there to give his shoulder a squeeze.

"You ready for this?"

Jarrod nodded. "As I'll ever be."

"Just bones, Jarrod. That's all," Nick said. "They might be buried, what with all the rains over the years. No telling what has fallen in on top of him."

"I'll find him."

Nick gave his brother a pat on the back and went to his horse. "I'll steady Coco. He'll get you down there safely."

Jarrod nodded. "I'm ready." He eased himself over the edge and dangled over the dark abyss. Slowly, he felt the rope become taut and gradually let go of the grass and earth that kept him from falling. Down slowly, ever so slowly, Jarrod sank into the hole in the earth.

No longer buffeted by the wind, Jarrod gathered to him a sense of deathly stillness that was the well's interior. What was up there, Jarrod could still see, was torment, and life. Down here, was nothing but blackness and shadow and an overwhelming sense of loss. The lamp clanged against the wall and the light skittered over the roughly dug earth. The bottom was as black as hell.

Light flashed above and the rope jerked. Jarrod spun around and clung to the rope.

"You all right Jarrod?" Nick called from what seemed a long, long distance.

Jarrod thought he saw his brother peer over the side for a brief moment, but then wasn't so sure. "I'm all right!" he called up. "Just...keep 'im steady." He felt himself descending again.

He thought he saw the floor. Dirt and leaves, he might sink into it and get caught. "Nick!" he called again, but Nick didn't respond. Oh well, I'll just have to step into it, he thought. He put his free foot tentatively on the muck and though it was soft, it was solid enough not to swallow him. He put more weight on that foot and he heard a plaintive sound.

"Not possible," he murmured. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, for what he heard was the soft sobbing of a child.


	4. Chapter 4

Jarrod swung the lantern around. The sobbing was behind him, in front of him...everywhere. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the sense that something was just behind him in the near total blackness. He backed to the wall and could feel the bone chilling cold of the deep earth. The crying seemed to be in front of him now, and he raised the lantern.

"Nicky..." he whispered. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

He ventured forward and saw that running water had carved out a tiny cavern in the wall.

"Come to me," he said, though somehow he knew Nick was not a little 4-year-old boy and was safe above ground, he felt that if he didn't find this child, who sounded so much like his long ago brother, he would lose everything. "Nicky."

He knelt at the cave entrance, ducked his head, and held the lamp inside. Saw nothing from this angle. Just blackness and a smooth floor inside. "Holy God," he muttered in prayer. The child sobbed once more and then...

...something, a series of muffled thumps...and then one piercing cry that echoed in the chamber and died.

"God, Nicky!" He scrambled through the entrance, and heard nothing but the drip of water and the sound of his own quick breaths. "Where are you?" Jarrod cried, a sob nearly choked his words.

He aroma of deep, damp earth filled his nostrils as he started to see the contents of this chamber. On hands and knees, for there was no room above to stand, he found a shoe. It was hardly bigger than his palm. Here, a half buried doll, and here, a wooden rifle, one that Nicky might have played with that day he disappeared.

The coward. The murderer. Jarrod had to find him. He-felt something snap under his foot in his haste to leave the cavern. He looked down. An arm. He gasped, a dark haired boy, half buried in the muck. He began to breathe again but unsteadily. He had stepped on the boy and crushed his arm. He gently turned the boy's face to him. "Oh, God! Oh God! Nicky!" Tears blurred his vision and panic hit him hard. "Nicky..." he cried hoarsely but the boy did not respond. His eyes were half open, but unseeing. Jarrod frantically clawed at the heavy earth to dig his brother out.

Heart racing, fear tearing his soul as much as his fingernails tore at the boy's tomb. He had to get him out!

He tore and scraped and ripped at the ground until his fingers bled, but he finally got the boy's body free. He cradled his little brother in his arms and searched for signs of life-so difficult with so little light and the body so cold!

He crawled on his knees toward the small opening which led back to the main chamber, but the little worn and wasted toy rifle caught his eye. He grabbed that up too, for it was a part of Nick. Both, he carried to the small opening which led to the well. The lantern still glowed, left behind in the darkness.

Scrambling out of the cavern, he lay the rifle down and touched the boy's face to see if he was still there. What he felt was not flesh, but bone. All of it, everything in his tender embrace was bone. He wanted to drop it, so repulsed was he, but these were not the bones of a man. He gently laid them down as he knew they did not belong here.

His eyes adjusted to the dimness and he felt around the mucky floor until his hand crossed the burlap. Jarrod opened it wide and lifted the bones into the bag. One body would be leaving this place. The body of a child who once had a family in the valley. An innocent child who had wandered into the path of a killer.

With the burlap opening drawn tight, Jarrod got to his feet. He felt the wall and found the rope. With shaking hands, he managed to slip his foot into the loop and tugged the rope three times. "Pull me up, Nick!" he called. He gripped the rope in one hand. In the other, he held the bones close. "You'll be with your family again," he managed to say.

Nick appeared as a dark silhouette at the opening of the well. He gave a signal that he understood and then disappeared.

The rope became taut and soon, Jarrod felt himself being lifted. Rising up from the abyss. He wondered if this would be enough to release Nick from the hold of the old bones. Is this what they were really after? He could only wait and see.

A blast of light filled the tunnel and a thunderous boom echoed down the shaft. Lightning struck close. Suddenly, the rope jerked upward. His rope hand slammed into a rock that jutted from the side of the well, knocking the rope free of his grip. He grasped for it, but only found air as his body tumbled down. Nothing would stop his fall.


	5. Chapter 5

"Jarrod!"

He heard his name, but the wind was knocked out of him. It was all he could do to just breathe. Swirls of dark colors swam in his vision, blues, reds, pulsing with the pain that stabbed through his shoulder blades.

Incapable of moving his right arm, Jarrod slowly rolled to his left side in an attempt to gain is bearings. The darkness was near complete with the storm overhead. The lantern apparently had extinguished itself since he left it back in the cavern. With a groan, he pushed up with his good arm, slowly bringing himself to a sitting position. He leaned against the wall and felt his right shoulder to see if he had dislocated it. Sore ribs, sore shoulder, but everything seemed solidly in place.

He looked up at the opening of the well. He searched for Nick's dark silhouette, but everything was pitch, the sky now barely discernible. "Nick!" he groaned. His voice not loud enough, he took a breath to try again but soon, chills crawled up his spine.

-I told you to get me out! I begged you!-

He remembered the harsh deep voice. His wide eyes searched the blackness, but he saw nothing. "I killed you," Jarrod told him. "You have no power over me."

-You took what was rightfully mine... the voice said. I want it back.-

Jarrod's fingers found the toy rifle, that was not a weapon to kill a demon. Not a weapon at all. "He wasn't yours! None of the children belonged to you." He gripped the barrel, not knowing what he would do. "They were innocent! They should be living their lives right now, but you stole what God gave them. You belong in Hell!"

Lightning flashed and Jarrod saw. A face in the dimness, rotted in decay, mocking him with a grin that froze Jarrod's heart.

-It is mine. I claim it!- With the scream of a wild ferocious wind, the phantom melted and spread black oily wings. Jarrod covered his face as it swooped over him and scurried a twisted path up the sides of the well. Blacker than black, the darkest shade of evil swam over the edge of the well like a rushing river into the world of the living.

Jarrod found his full voice. "Nick!"

A clap of thunder, a flash of light, a scream of terror.

"Nick!" Forgetting the pain, forgetting himself, Jarrod got to his hands and knees. Still clasping the toy rifle with the rusted iron barrel, he felt deep in the muck for the bones of a killer. He dug, down, down, scraping, tearing at the earth. "I know you're here!" Jarrod screamed. "Show yourself, you coward!"

His hand clasped something in the cold ground and he pulled it up. A femur maybe, he dug more until his fingers found the rough edges of a row of teeth. Grasping the jawbone, he pulled it free.

This skull he pulled from the muck belonged to a man and in this empty shell was once the mind of a murderer. Flashes of light showed Jarrod the roundness of the cranium and the wide dark holes of dirt that once held those piercing blue eyes. Jarrod glanced back up at the opening and knew he could do nothing to help his brother in the living world, but he could do something for him down here in Hell.

Jarrod lay the skull on the floor and with the toy rifle of a child long dead, he beat the bones to dust.

Spent, he fell back on his heels still gripping the rifle. He heaved a lonely sob and swiped with his sleeve at his angry, tear-stained face. If he had to remain here in Hell, he had wanted the sacrifice to save his beloved brother. He had wasted his chance.

A slinking sound from behind had him turning. If he had to face that creature again, it would surely end him. He had no defense. Nothing but a child's toy in his shivering grasp.

He stretched out a hand toward the sound. The rope! It had been lowered again, the loop still in place. He looked up and again saw nothing but dark sky. He found the burlap bag and placed the toy rifle in with the child's bones. Slowly and unsteadily, he got to his feet. He slipped his foot into the loop and with a deep breath, tugged the rope three times. The rope tightened and began to ascend. Jarrod felt himself lifted and this time, he would not let go.

He threw the burlap sack over the side once he was within reach. He grasped a handful of green grass and felt himself come to life again. Coco was ahead and a slinking dark figure held his reigns. For a heart clenching moment, Jarrod wasn't certain of what he saw, but no matter what, he wasn't about to go back into that well. He scrambled over the side and crawled away from the pit, collapsing on the cold, damp ground.

The figure turned and lurched toward him. Jarrod sat up in alarm, his heart racing. He wanted that rifle.

"Jarrod..." said Nick. He dropped to one knee, clutching his arm.

Jarrod got up and ran to him. "Nick!" He saw his brother's arm, bent unnaturally at the elbow. "Nick what happened?"

"Coco got spooked. Something, I don't know. He just jumped and when I tried to calm him he...he knocked me down." Nick looked fearfully into Jarrod's eyes. "He didn't mean it. I know he didn't."

Jarrod placed a careful hand on Nick's shoulder. "It wasn't him."

Nick gazed at him, confused and looking too pale. Ghostly.

"Can you ride?"

"I think so. It'll be slow going."

"As long as we put distance between us and this place," Jarrod said. "But, I'm sorry Nick. We'll have to come back here soon. Tie up loose ends."

"What do you mean?"

"His bones weren't the only ones I found down there," he said as he watched his brother's slowly comprehending eyes. "We've found the lost children."


	6. Chapter 6

"When I think those bones could have been mine, I..." Nick began, but he hung his head, not daring to move. His sore broken arm was set and propped on four cushions.

Mother sat quietly in a chair across from him. She caressed the stock of the toy rifle Jarrod had brought up from the well. She had remembered it from years past as a birthday present of Nick's when he had turned four. It had gone missing when he did. She had gotten her child back, was able to keep him and nurture him growing up. Other parents had not been as fortunate. "We were the lucky ones, Nick," she said solemnly. "And at least now the other families will have a small amount of solace in knowing their children may now rest in peace."

Father paced in front of the mantel. "When they're finished searching that well, I'll have it filled in. We'll bury it good. We'll make it so it never existed."

"It'll always exist," Jarrod put in. He stood with his hands in his pockets not wanting to sit. If he did, he thought he might never get up again. None of them had slept since the boys returned from their journey. The doctor had come to set Nick's arm, men had come to organize a search of the well, and the older Barkley's could not rest, not with so much to be said. "But I'm grateful the bones will be gone and off Barkley land," he added. "Father, do you think someone will claim his remains?"

Father stopped pacing and gazed at his son with weary eyes. "No," he said simply. "He'll be forgotten, His memory left to be buried by the passage of years."

"I can still see him holding Nick." He would have thrown him in the well. Jarrod knew that now. "I can still hear his voice."

Mother looked up sharply, tears formed in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell us then? Why did you keep all of this to yourselves all these years?"

"I guess it was too painful for me to remember. I remember everything now."

She turned to Nick, who had not spoken up.

Nick shrugged carefully and did not meet her gaze.

"Tell us now, will you?" said Father quietly. "It's time for us to know."

Jarrod glanced at Nick, who did not look up. He kept his head down, rubbing his swollen fingers.

Jarrod sighed. They deserved to know, and perhaps everyone in the valley should know what happened that day by the well. He looked down and wished he could spare them the bitter story, but he felt his parents' eyes on him. "I rode alone that day we searched for Nick. I'd begged to be allowed to go, but was told to stay home. I went anyway. Father, I took your gun with me. Do you remember?"

"I remember." said Father. "I found it in the drawer. A bullet missing from the chamber."

Nick's eyes flicked up and met Jarrod's. "It's done, isn't it? Why should we dredge up the past? It's gone. We should bury it with those old bones. Good riddance."

"How can you bury it, when you can't face it?" Jarrod said. "Even bones get a eulogy. Why shouldn't we say words to seal the tomb? That awful day deserves a proper burial."

"Jarrod's right," Victoria said. "We need to open up that tomb and look inside it if we're to begin healing from the traumatic events that day." When Nick said nothing, she looked to Jarrod. "Please, tell us what happened."

Seeing no sign from Nick on whether or not to proceed, Jarrod drew a breath. "It was the worst day of my life and on the same token, the one I find I am most thankful for..."

* * *

Jarrod squeezed behind the desk to be near his father. A crowd of men had gathered around to look at the map Father had unfurled on the desktop.

"McColl, you know the east range the best, Jansen, take the south..."

Jarrod didn't understand why the men needed to look for Nick in such far off places. His brother had never gotten that far from home before. Whenever Nick disappeared it was to the hen house or the stables, someplace like that. The fear and determination in all of their faces worried him greatly.

Finally, when each man had his assignment and left the study, Father went to the gun room and Jarrod followed. Nick had been missing for hours. "I don't understand. How could Nick get so far from the house? He can't ride alone. He can't even saddle a horse yet."

A rifle was in his father's hands now and he cast a weary gaze to Jarrod. "We've searched this ranch near the house. We've looked everywhere he could have gone on his own. Somebody has taken him."

Jarrod's mouth dropped. "Who? Why?"

Father rummaged through the cabinet for the ammunition. "I don't know."

"Oh Father!" Tears sprang to his eyes, and he tried to stifle them.

A sob escaped him and Father knelt in front of him. His eyes had never looked so frightened and full of worry. "I want to save you from the truth son, but it isn't possible. I need you to be strong for your brother. He needs all of us to be strong."

"I want to go with you!"

"No son," Father said, his eyes softening as he saw the trauma in his son. "You are to stay here with your mother. I want you to keep her safe, understand? She needs you."

Jarrod nodded and wiped his eyes.

Father stood and put a hand on Jarrod's shoulder. "We will find your brother. I won't come back without him." He guided his son to the stairway. "Go up and see your mother. Make sure she knows you're with her."

Jarrod started up the stairs and turned to see his father shove on his hat and disappear out the front door. Jarrod's heart raced as he continued up the stairs. The house was suddenly quiet. He felt himself shaking and he gripped the railing as he approached the top step.

Dr. Merar closed Mother's door.

"What's wrong with my mother?" Jarrod asked.

"She is sleeping, Jarrod," the doctor said. "Please be very quiet. She must get rest."

Jarrod's eyes went to the closed door and the doctor seemed to detect his distress. "If you need to talk, we can go down stairs. I will listen to anything you have to say."

Jarrod shook his head. "Father told me to stay with her. I have to stay with my mother. May I go in?"

The doctor glanced at the room and after a moment relented. "You may go in. Just try not to wake her. She's very distraught."

"Yes sir. I'll be quiet." The boy proceeded toward the closed door.

"Jarrod," Dr. Merar said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Jarrod said. "Mother needs me." He turned the knob and went in.

The bed was tall, four poster mahogany. Mother lay curled on her side breathing deeply, in her arms she clutched a blanket from Nicky's bed. She was so pale, she didn't seem alive. Jarrod touched her hand to be sure and was relieved at the warmth he found. "I'm here, Mother," he said. "It's Jarrod. I'm with you."

Mother didn't move nor change from her steady sleep. Jarrod saw on the nightstand a dark brown bottle of liquid and a small glass beside it. Residue of the medicine pooled at the bottom of the glass. Jarrod had seen this before. It made sick people sleep better. Mother was 'distraught' as Dr. Merar had put it. She was heartsick.

He moved to the window and looked out. Men outside called for Nick. Various versions of his name were sporadically called out. Nicholas, Nicky, Nick...would he answer to any of them? The searchers were spreading out over the hills beyond and into the woods. If his brother had been taken, how would they find him? He could be anywhere.

Jarrod had a horse. A fast one. He could search for Nicky as well as or even better than any of them. And if his little brother was scared, wouldn't the voice of his best friend, his brother out there with the rest of them, calm him? Dr. Merar was here. Mother was safe. It was Nicky who needed him most.

"I'm going to bring Nicky back, Mother," Jarrod told her. "I'm going to bring him home."

* * *

He left the bedroom, closing the door silently behind him. Anything was better than waiting for news. Jarrod knew just where to look. Father had missed it on the map. He would ride out toward the Hill Ranch, that old place that once existed until the river flooded the homesteaders out. Now it was a part of the Barkley ranch and no one was searching it. They needed another man to help. Jarrod ran down the stairs.

He needed a weapon though and entered the gun room. He looked at the sparse rack. Most of the rifles were gone. He couldn't take a rifle. He couldn't wield one in the saddle. He opened the drawer beneath them and withdrew Father's Colt engraved with the Barkley name. Jarrod weighed it in his palm and snatched a packet of bullets.

"She's sleeping now," he heard the doctor saying. Shadows passed the doorway and Jarrod pressed against the wall so they wouldn't see him.

"Oh." Silas was tearful. "I do hope that boy is alright. What will this family do without him?"

"They'll find him Silas."

"Oh dear Lord! I pray they do. I pray to sweet Jesus they do."

Jarrod bit back tears when he heard Silas break down. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing will happen to Nicky. Nothing. He sensed that the men had moved off, as Silas's sobs where distant now. Jarrod took the moment and went out into the hall and exited the back door.

* * *

Of the three horses under Jarrod's care, his fastest was Lightfoot. She was nimble and slender and could take him through dense brush quicker than any other animal. He chose her and saddled her up. No one was in the stable and no one was looking for him so he found it easy once outside to leave the grounds undetected.

Once in the saddle, with the revolver loaded and safely tucked into the saddlebag, he started off toward the little used path that led to the Old Hill Ranch. The way was lightly wooded and the path barely discernible. He had traveled it before though on short excursions with his friends. It was a great area to get lost in with so many boulders and crevasses, and it would be easy for a man to hide here with a little boy. He scanned the woods and could hear at times in the distance his brother's name shouted thinly over the crisp air.

"Nicky!" Jarrod called. His voice came back to him in pieces, echoing off the trunks of the trees. The sound was so lonely, he didn't want to hear it again, but he had to keep going. "Nicky! It's Jarrod!"

He moved along the trail, calling his brother's name, pausing now and again to listen. The woods were awfully quiet. All he could hear were the footfalls of his horse and the scraping and creaking of the branches in the wind.

The trees thickened and Lightfoot stepped gingerly over fallen logs and thick brush. Jarrod began to doubt whether a man would go to this length with a boy like Nick. He knew his brother would not go willingly. A struggling boy would make the going difficult. But there were many things a man could do to subdue a child like that. Jarrod bit his lip when the possibility dawned on him that Nicky might not be able to respond to his calls.

He came upon a clearing ahead. It was where the Hill family had built their ranch house. The house had been washed away in a long ago flood, but its foundation was here in this little alcove. Jarrod had played here many times, he'd fished in the river not too far from here, but today, the place seemed foreboding. He turned to the saddle bag, opened it and withdrew the Colt.

"Nicky!" he called. Nothing. But the thought of his brother not being able to respond had him studying the landscape even more closely. Maybe he could not call out, but Nicky might be able to move. He might show a sign somehow. "Nicky don't be afraid. I'm here. Jarrod's here to take you home, but you have to tell me where you are."

He and Lightfoot entered the clearing. The tall yellow grasses swayed in the breeze. A well stood at the center of the clearing, its stone walls were just high enough to be seen as an oval of stone. The well was long dry, so it had never been a good place to homestead, not even back when it was built. It was a forlorn place though, as if it longed for its people to return. Maybe that was what drew him here. Maybe that was why another man might come here, too.

"Nicky!" Jarrod shouted again. "Please!"

He saw something then. Movement in the grass beyond the well. "Nicky?" Jarrod gripped the gun, careful to point the barrel away. "Nicky is that you?"

He advanced toward the well and a thin man rose from the grass like a snake. "You found us. Well, come here boy," he said, his whiskered face broke into a sickly sweet smile. His tattered clothes moved with the grasses making it look as if he grew forth from the earth at this spot. "Come here and sit with us. This little one is such a fighter. You have calmed him so." His arms clutched a crying Nicky in a tight embrace. Nicky's face was flushed and puffy from crying.

"Jarrod," came Nicky's frightened voice. He pushed with one hand at the man's chest and reached toward Jarrod with the other.

"Nicky," Jarrod said. He dismounted and stepped forward wanting to rip Nick from the man's arms.

The man pulled him tighter until Nicky was firmly subdued against his chest. He eased toward the well. "Let's not make this difficult," he said. "You come here and we'll all be friends. That's all I want. Just friends."

"Let my brother go." Jarrod laid the shaking pistol across his arm and placed his finger on the trigger.

"That is a bad choice, boy," said the man. "Very bad. Naughty boys get punished. This one," he shook Nicky. "Has been very bad. He bit me." The man held up his forearm and Jarrod saw the bloody bite mark. It was then too that he saw the blood on Nick's clothes.

Anger flooded Jarrod's veins. He pulled back the hammer on the revolver. "I said, let my brother go!" He remembered his Father's words when he had taught him to use a gun. "Never shoot a man...unless all options are lost."

All options were indeed lost, as the man lunged toward the well, he pushed Nicky toward the edge. Jarrod pulled the trigger. The man stumbled and clutched his chest and slumped against the well. He still held Nicky, but Nicky was pulling himself free. He pulled himself toward the edge of the well.

"Nicky stop!" Jarrod rushed forward and scooped his brother up ripping him from the terrible grasp. He fell to the ground with a crying, thrashing, Nicky.

"Look what you've done!" the man said. Blood blossomed on his ratty shirt. "You've kilt me." He tottered on the edge of the well. "I'll take you with me," he said. He pulled out a knife, he struggled to his feet.

Jarrod reached for his gun, but could not find it. He had dropped it. Nicky held him now and kept him from moving. "Let go of me Nicky. Let go!" he shoved his brother away. "Stay here!"

The man swayed, but he was on his feet. Jarrod only had one shot. He lunged toward the man and with all his might shoved him backward. The man was light and easy to topple. He upended and down he fell into the darkness of the pit. Jarrod peered into the abyss and saw nothing but blackness. A plaintive wail came up moments later. "Save me!" the man begged. "Get me out of here! I'm frightened! So dark! So dark!"

Jarrod backed away. He would never look into that well again. Never as long as he lived. He turned and saw the saddest sight. Nicky sat on the grass, still in his night clothes. His little hands covered his face, his dark hair was matted from sweat. His brother was quietly sobbing.

"Nicky." Jarrod said to him. Tears filled his eyes. He had Nicky back. His brother was alive and crying of all things. "Nicky, it's over. It's over." Jarrod picked him up and got him to his feet. He did not know now if the blood on his shirt was Nick's or the man's. "Are you hurt?" Jarrod quickly checked him over and saw no cuts just some scrapes and bruises. "Oh, Nicky." He hugged him and Nicky's arms wrapped around him tightly.

"I wanna go home!" wailed Nicky.

"Let me out!" cried the man in the tomb.

Jarrod didn't spare the well a glance and he redirected Nicky to the horse. "I brought Lightfoot. I know she's your favorite. I'll take you home." As he bent to lift Nicky into the saddle, he saw glinting in the sunlight Father's Colt lying in the grass. He snatched it up and placed it in the saddle bag. He would no longer need it now that the man was gone. Never looking back, Jarrod rode out of that clearing with Nicky securely in front of him, and headed home.

Neither boy ever told anyone of the man in the well. As far as the family knew, Jarrod had found Nick wandering alone and had fired the gun to draw the attention of the searching men.

* * *

"I never visited that homestead again," Jarrod said. "Not until last night when we both decided to go there."

Father looked from one of his sons to the other. "What made you go back last night? After all this time?"

"It was the bones, Father," Nick said. "The bones wanted to be found."

Mother swiped a tear. "It was a dreadful day and more are to come as the families bury their long lost children." She stood and embraced her eldest son. "But they have you to be thankful for, Jarrod. For going into that well and finding their children and for saving countless more from that awful man. You were very brave that day and you were brave, so brave tonight."

Jarrod glanced at Nick. If it weren't for Nick, he would not have gone back, but he kept silent because he could see that Nick still struggled with his own memories of that day.

Mother released Jarrod and went to Nick and sat beside him on the sofa. She cupped his cheek and said his name softly. When he looked into her eyes, Nick slumped and melted into her embrace. "It's over now," she whispered. "It's over."

The End.


End file.
